The Beginning and The End
by greenovalfruit
Summary: Set during 2.03, 'Lullaby'. After Robert arrives home, post doctor's appointment. Missing scene, or 'what should have happened'. B/R :: SMUT :: angst, ahoy! :: Review please!


Robert was dying. He was dying, and he couldn't feel anything. He sat on his bed, in his boathouse, on his own, not feeling. The headaches had abated, at least for now, and when he ran his fingers across the back of his neck, the base of his skull, he felt nothing. Again and again, he felt nothing. How could he be dying and not feel anything? How could his life be over already? He'd finally been able to start living each day without the guilt of Josh's death paining him like a festering sore. He'd found a subject and a friend in Alison, opening up a whole new aspect on life and on his work. This thing with Jude… it was tentative, it hurt, but it felt like his life was knitting back together. That he might have a chance to be happy again.

And he was dying.

Something in the air pressed down on him. But inside… he couldn't feel pain, he couldn't feel anything at all. There was no grief, no anger, no denial, no bargaining. Just this incredible sense of nothing. No sensation. Not only couldn't he feel any pain or any emotion; nothing felt real. The bed beneath him, the water below keeping the boat in perpetual motion. Even the picture of Josh in its frame on the shelf, angled towards the bed so he would see it when he went to sleep and when he woke up, seemed like a phantom. But there was this pressure. In the air, in the atoms. You're dying, Robert. You're dying.

He studied his hands, which still shook. It had started when he got home… he didn't know how long ago that was. How long he'd been sitting in the nothing. But his hands still shook and he watched them. He'd driven Barb home, though she'd protested, saying he wanted to be alone. He hadn't thought as he drove, navigating on autopilot. Only when he saw the river, and noticed the nothing around him, did he fully appreciate what he'd been told. So he walked inside, took off his jacket and sat on the bed. Now, he looked at the hands that had grown and aged with him, caressed his wife, held his son, touched Alison as she slipped out of this world, into the next and back again. This couldn't be real.

He clenched his fists. There was so much nothing. All around him felt fake, like a dream and a bad movie. Reality didn't feel real, he needed something that was real. Jude's face appeared in his mind, so sweet and fragile and wide eyed when he spoke to her that morning. He growled, angry and desperate. He couldn't call her. He couldn't take how she'd look at him when he told her. But he needed something real. His eyes caught on the photo of Josh again. He kicked his heel back against the base of the bed, hard. His little boy had been real. Just holding him had made life make sense. But that was gone, too.

"Robert?"

He heard a voice floating down the stairs, the shuffle of footsteps and his door being closed. Steps echoed down the stairway and he looked up when they stopped. Barb was standing there, one hand at the bottom of the banister, watching him. He noticed her eyes seemed red, though apart from that, she appeared her usual composed self. She took a deep breath and her chest hitched. Perhaps not completely composed.

"Are you alright?" She looked down at him, sitting on the edge of the bed, hands clasped together. He looked completely lost. Like he had absolutely no idea what was happening. His gaze dropped to the floor.

"No."

She moved over to stand in front of him, head tilted to one side. He didn't look up.

"Where's Jude?" Her voice sounded husky, like it did when she'd been crying. He'd known her long enough to discover that. He turned his head to look away, out the small window set above a bookshelf.

"I couldn't…. I couldn't." The nothing was sticking in his throat, in his lungs. There were no tears but he was starting to feel desperate under the pressure of it. He shook his head, flexed his fingers. He only felt it pushing him, the unreality. Barb reached one hand out to him and he grabbed it instinctively, looking up at her. She felt the strength of something she couldn't name in his touch and was transfixed by the look in his intense blue eyes. She wanted so badly to tell him that everything would be okay but she couldn't.

"What do you need? Tell me what you need." It was a plea more than a comfort, she was almost begging. Seeing him like this, knowing what she knew – she felt like her heart was being ripped out. It wasn't fair. Robert was the young one, the strong one, the one who married and had children… who had a life. And even after Josh and Clive and all the bullshit, he was getting it back. He couldn't be dying.

Robert stood, not letting go of her hand, so he was within inches of her. He had an energy about him, that young men who have always been told not to cry have when they're falling apart. A forcefulness that replaces tears. She knew he would cry, though. He did so many times after Josh died and Jude left him, in her office, at her house, here. He would cry if he could. But she looked into his eyes and saw nothing she recognised. Almost nothing at all. It terrified her.

"This is… nothing feels real, Barb. Like it's all a hallucination or a delusion. I wish it was. But I can't… I don't understand. I need something real. I need to feel something real." She felt him squeeze her hand, like a spasm. She looked down to where they connected, then up at his face. Her skin burned where he was touching her, his gaze felt like it was setting her alight. She wanted to cry and scream at once, and he seemed so empty. So desperate. She felt him lift her hand to his cheek. Even his skin felt cool beneath her fingers. His eyes flickered shut for a moment, and when they opened, his face had changed. Shocked and lost and terrified, he suddenly looked how she'd been feeling for the past two hours. When she felt his hand slide across her hip, she closed the gap between them. They both needed this.

Their lips met in a heated, barely restrained kiss. Barb fought between going slowly, gently and the urgent need to remind them both, in the strongest possible terms, that Robert was still alive. It was decided for her when he nipped at her lips until she allowed his tongue entrance. She slipped one hand between them to rest on his chest, feeling the rapid beating of his heart. The other remained cupping his cheek, her nails lightly scraping his hairline. His hands had come to rest at her waist, pulling her body sharply against his. She gasped and he pushed forward, claiming her lips again.

"I need to feel you." Robert breathed against her mouth, stripping her cardigan off and flicking open the buttons on her blouse. Barb noticed his hands shaking and undid the last couple herself, looking him squarely in the eye as she did so. She peeled off the garment and leaned in to kiss him again, feeling his hands slide up her sides and all over her bare skin. His fingers dug into her hips as she made short work of the buttons on his blue shirt. They broke apart while he tore his shirt off and pulled his t-shirt over his head and she toed off her brown boots, pushing them to the side. He drew her to him and groaned as the bare skin of her stomach and the lace of her bra pressed against his naked torso.

She pushed him backwards until he sat on the edge of the bed, pulling her down with him. She straddled his lap, holding his face in her hands and kissing him over and over, sweetly and urgently. She felt as if she was trying to pour life into him, fix him with each touch. And he, in turn, leaned into every caress, pulled her closer when she moved away. She took his hand and rolled to the side, moving up the bed so her head rested on the pillows. Robert kicked off his shoes and pulled off his socks before crawling up to join her. She'd undone the zip on her knee length brown skirt and was shimmying out of it. He helped her remove it, dropping it beside the bed, kissing his way up her legs and stomach and chest until he met her lips.

He slipped his hand into her dark curls and traced a path across her jaw to her neck as she slid her hands underneath to undo the clasp of her bra. He was busy kissing and biting the soft spot where Barb's shoulder met her neck, and made sure to perform each task in equal measure to the moans of pleasure reverberating in his ear. He moved his attentions back to her lips, kissing her vehemently as he used both hands to slide the straps down her arms, unceremoniously tossing the garment to the floor. He wasted no time cupping her breasts in his hands, ducking his head to lick and bite roughly at each nipple. He felt her hand at the back of his head, tugging at his hair while she throatily repeated his name, over and over.

Barb pulled him back up, more to be able to reach his belt buckle than to stop his exquisite ministrations. He hovered over her while she quickly undid his belt and ripped it through the loops of his dark slacks. She kissed him and licked at his teeth as she unbuttoned and unzipped with deft fingers. She could feel how hard he was against her thigh through two layers of fabric and watched hungrily as he pulled away to remove his trousers and dark blue boxers. She scraped her nails down the length of his chest, over his stomach and took his length in her hand. He swore as she stroked him a couple of times and ground out a short warning. She scraped her teeth across his collarbone and squeezed a little before letting go.

Robert moved down and placed a short open mouthed kiss on her hip before removing her underwear. She shivered as his cock brushed her leg when he reached over to the nightstand and opened a drawer, removing a small foil packet. He ripped it open and slid the condom over himself, moving between her legs. She spread them wider to accommodate him and he looked her full in the face, unable to ask the question, so choked with lust and unassailable need. She thought her heart and everything else would break if he didn't continue, so she nodded and dug her heels into the backs of his thighs.

He entered her slowly at first, half trying to be mindful, but she was so hot and wet, he couldn't help thrusting deeper. She moaned heavily and pulled him closer. He began a steady rhythm, leaning forwards to capture her lips as they moved together. They shared each gasp and muttered curse as Robert adjusted his angle slightly, eliciting a low sound of pleasure from Barb. She felt as if he couldn't be close enough, that she wanted to melt into him. Every second was an agony and an ecstasy. She couldn't help but notice, in between the blaring message to get closer, to hold on to him, and the searing truth of what they'd been told, that they moved together almost perfectly. Like they'd been doing this for years, or should have been. She dug her nails into his back and blocked out the thought.

He began to speed up and she pulled him savagely against her, so their bodies were pressed hard together. She felt his breath on her neck and she closed her eyes, meeting his thrusts and simply feeling him above her, inside her. She was too far gone to think what it meant that she was so ready for him and that she was so close already. As Robert's movements became more erratic, she felt him pull back to look her in the eyes. He kissed her, hard, as she came and he quickly followed.

They lay entwined for a few minutes, coming down and catching their breath. When Robert's arms couldn't take it anymore, he rolled off his elbows to the side. He turned to remove and dispose of the condom in a wastebasket. He felt her tense when he moved but as he turned back, she relaxed against his side. The afternoon air was cool against their skin, so he pulled back the covers from under them without a thought, covering their naked bodies. Barb lay on her stomach, head resting on his shoulder, arm draped across his chest with their legs tangled below. She watched him cautiously as he stared at the ceiling. Her arm involuntarily tightened around him.

"Well, I certainly felt that." Robert spoke quietly, but with a small smile on his face. Barb smiled back a little, smacking her fist lightly against his chest. This made him laugh lightly, but it quickly subsided. They were silent for a moment before he looked down at her and spoke again. "What now?" Barb held his gaze, then shrugged uncertainly.

"I don't know." Robert paused, then looked back to the ceiling. Barb rested her head back on his shoulder, unhappily.

"This is a bad idea, isn't it?" She felt each word vibrate through his chest. Tears were threatening and she blinked them away. Not because this was obviously a one time thing, that was plain from the start. But each breath he took, each word, reminded her that everything was now numbered. Ticking down to nothing, sooner or later. But sooner than was fair or right.

"I think so, yes." She sighed raggedly. He kissed the top of her head and she moved a fraction closer to him.

"Thank you." She nuzzled his shoulder and suppressed a yawn. He noticed. "Sleep first, reality later." She hmm-ed, voicing her disapproval of his obvious deflection tactics, but made herself comfortable where she was and listened to Robert's heartbeat. Within five minutes, she was asleep.

He lay there for a while, processing, mainly feeling the warmth and solidity of the body beside him. He had been grounded in a completely unexpected way, though he was more than grateful. He never thought he and Barb would ever act on their feelings, which had been obvious since London when she'd been his Criminal Psychology lecturer. It _would_ take a death sentence for something wonderful to happen. But now he was thinking of Jude and Alison and how much time he had left.

He slipped out from under the covers, carefully so as not to wake Barb. He got dressed and scribbled a note to say he was going for a walk and not to wait for him if she woke up before he returned. He signed it 'Robert' with an X underneath and left it on the pillow next to his sleeping friend and lover. He looked at her one last time, sheets just covering her creamy breasts, shoulders bare and with her hand curled into a loose fist by her face. Her curls were wild and dark against his white cotton pillowcases and her face was beatifically relaxed in sleep. He had a feeling he wouldn't see her like this again, that he couldn't even in whatever months or weeks he had remaining.

He slipped on his jacket and quietly climbed the stairs. He knew she'd be gone before he got back.


End file.
